


CODE NAME IS

by princehwa



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Academy, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hypnotism, Kissing, M/M, Mercenaries, Rescue Missions, Spies & Secret Agents, assassin!wooyoung, ateez is a spy team, basically theyre all black widow, bff jongsang, flirty woosan, hacker!yeosang, kinda sad, leader!hongjoong, mafia, medic!yunho, melee!jongho, mercenary!san, sassy hongjoong, sniper!seonghwa, some wild shit goin on here guys, spy kids in training, weapon tech!mingi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-07-08 18:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princehwa/pseuds/princehwa
Summary: "No, Hongjoong. I'm not going to snipe the guy who forgot your extra guac."Raised and trained together in an Academy for turning young kids into special agents, Team ATEEZ is at the top of their ranks. They work seamlessly together as an attack unit, and also as a group of friends. Brought together by their years of studying and rigorous training, it seems only fitting that the Academy should be the thing to tear them apart.





	1. wanna fight for me?

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this fic is incredibly self indulgent?? i just love battle babies ateez???  
> general disclaimer that this is all fiction and doesn't reflect on the real members of ateez!!  
> tysm to everyone who helped me edit and develop this !!
> 
> i hope u enjoy ;;

“Do you ever worry about anything other than your appearance?”

“Just say you think I’m pretty and go.”

They stood in a grimy gas station bathroom, Hongjoong smoothing down his already perfect hair while Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at a threateningly suspicious piece of mold. The older of the two boys twirled the bathroom key around his finger, hoping that the cashier wouldn't worry too much about two college students shoved into a tiny bathroom. Seonghwa supposed that it wasn’t exactly an odd or uncommon occurrence. He didn’t want to know what the cashier thought they were doing in here. 

“You do realize that the entire point of being a special agent is to not be seen, right? Your eyeliner won’t kill them any quicker,” Seonghwa mustered up all of the disdain that he could, wrapping his arms around himself to minimize any further contact with the grubby bathroom, “Not that you ever comply with the rule of not being seen.”

“You’re just mad that I look better than you, even when I’m charging into the lion’s den,” Hongjoong drawled back, making a weird face as he finessed the mascara around his eyes. Seonghwa swallowed down a retort. 

“All I’m saying it we could’ve been done already. You could go into battle barefaced with bedhead and I’m sure that we would still come out victorious,” Seonghwa pointed out to his partner. 

“You really have that kind of faith in me? Cute.”

How endearingly intolerable. He felt a little tempted to snap back and win the argument, but instead he narrowed his eyes at his partner and averted his gaze. He found himself becoming more and more interested in his white gloves, inspecting a loose thread with determined eyes. He noticed a small, red strain on the back of his glove - probably leftovers from Hongjoong’s last messy kill. Seonghwa made a mental note to put the glove in Hongjoong’s laundry basket, to make sure that he was the one to wash it (even though he knew quite well that the glove, along with the rest of his partner’s dirty laundry, would end up thrown haphazardly on his own bed). Seonghwa was snapped out of his daze by a loud lip-smack, and he looked up to meet his partner’s eyes in the mirror. Hongjoong gave him a look that seemed to read _‘I’m done, can we go yet?’_

Seonghwa scoffed, “Don’t give me that look. This is your fault.” The only response he received was an overly exaggerated eye roll. 

“Don’t you roll your--… you know what, fine. Fine. Whatever. Where’s the file?” Seonghwa sputtered, trying to hold on to what he had left of his sanity. 

“What file,” Hongjoong deadpanned. 

“Th-the! The file! The file on the guy we’re supposed to be taking out!” Seonghwa all but shrieked, only about 3 seconds away from pulling his hair out. 

“Oohh. Oh yeah,” Hongjoong tapped his chin as if he was deep in thought, “It’s right here.”

Seonghwa felt his right eye twitch as Hongjoong pulled a crumpled up paper out of his back pocket. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said sternly.   
“Yes?” Hongjoong jested, proudly wearing his signature shit-eating grin. 

“The file is digitalized. It’s on your phone. What on _earth_ is that paper?” Seonghwa seethed through clenched teeth, just about ready to leave his partner in this bathroom and track down the mob boss himself. 

“You wanna know what it is?” Hongjoong’s grin only grew, his eyes scrunching into tiny smug slits. 

“Well, I asked. So...yeah,” Seonghwa asked, squinting at his partner. He felt his initial annoyance slip away, slowly being replaced by general disdain. 

“Ahem,” Hongjoong cleared his throat dramatically and held up the paper as though he was reading from an ancient scroll, “Dear Diary. Today, Joongie and I-”

In that moment, Seonghwa was glad that he had spent the last 15 years in stealth and speed training. Before either of them knew it, Seonghwa had the diary page in his back pocket, and both of his hands occupied. His left hand gently held Hongjoong’s phone, scrolling through the database in search of the file that started this whole squabble. Meanwhile, his right hand was clutching Hongjoong’s wrist hard enough to snap the bones in half. 

“I know you’re established as the fastest in the academy and all, but your skills still catch me off guard every once in a while,” Hongjoong quipped, wincing slightly at Seonghwa’s nails digging into his skin, “How did you know about my manhandling kink?” 

Seonghwa took his eyes off of the phone to send Hongjoong a deadly glare, tightening his grip on the twig-like arm of his partner. 

“Ooh, scary look,” Hongjoong’s voice dripped with smugness, “What are you gonna do to me, Mr. Grey?” 

Seonghwa closed his eyes and took a mini-meditation moment. He reminded himself that despite his prankster sense of humor, Hongjoong was his cherished partner. Hongjoong was his incredibly esteemed partner of over 5 years, and his jeering quips were only his way of expressing his fondness of Seonghwa. 

“You’re no fun when you’re all serious,” Hongjoong’s joker-persona was dampened, but still at a level that Seonghwa considered mildly infuriating. Deep breaths. Meditation.

Seonghwa loosened his grip on his partner and held him gently, feeling the classic Hongjoong-headache fade away. He dragged Hongjoong out of the bathroom, staring at his phone as he tried to find his way to their target. He scanned over the file, reminding himself to thank Eden for digitizing the Academy files. He shuddered at the countless memories of putting bandaids on Hongjoong’s pinprick papercuts. 

Seonghwa’s highly trained eyes picked out every piece of important information in only a few seconds. Their target was in the tower down the street - he would be alone at about this time. Unless he wasn’t, which would require the assistance of an assassin. Seonghwa pushed the loud thought of Wooyoung away, focusing on the task at hand. Surely they had waited long enough - the file estimated that his bodyguards left at 11pm, and it was 12:15am by the time that Hongjoong finished touching up his makeup and buying every keychain-like earring within a 5 block radius. 

After another minute of walking, Seonghwa let go of Hongjoong’s wrist. Hongjoong gave him a confused look, tilting his head to the side and causing his 5 new earrings to jingle. 

“Why are you giving me that look?” Seonghwa scrunched up his nose, “We’re here. He should be in the basement.” The two partners exchanged a knowing nod, splitting up as they fell into their clockwork routine. Hongjoong made his way directly for the door, while Seonghwa latched his fingers into the stone bricks of the building. Hongjoong watched carefully as his partner slid himself into the window of the 4th floor. He made a habit to watch, just to make sure that Seonghwa didn’t fall while scaling the building. He’d never even come close, but Hongjoong always made sure to watch. 

He spun the chain of his earring around his finger, sauntering towards the front door. He threw the double oak doors open with a loud bang, announcing his presence. Hongjoong could practically hear Seonghwa scolding him about the ‘secret’ part of being a secret agent. His lips curled into a wry smile as he strutted his stuff down the rococo spiral staircase. As he ran his calloused hand along the ornate handrail, he began to wonder why such a primitive criminal organization had such an elegant tower to do their business in. Hongjoong’s inner thoughts were immediately silenced when he made it to the bottom of the staircase. 

The first step that he took off of the staircase was directly into a puddle of oil, and he pulled a grimace at the stench that assaulted his senses. His eyes burned and his nose began to sting, and he scrunched up his face unattractively in a feeble attempt to fight off the stinging sensation. 

When he finally got the courage to open his eyes, he assessed the situation. He stood in a murky hallway, with doors lining the walls. At the very end of the hallway was a door sitting ajar, light spilling through the cracks. Hongjoong’s heeled boots made loud clicks as he walked through the grimy hallway and towards the door. He heard Seonghwa’s voice scolding him once more, and he shook his head as he pushed the door open. 

He was greeted with a greasy looking kingpin, sitting at the end of an unnecessarily long dining table. On either side of the grumpy man were bodyguards - alright, so maybe Seonghwa was right. If he hadn’t been faffing around for so long in the bathroom, maybe they could have caught the mob boss without his two little friends. The ugly-faced man looked up at Hongjoong, his beady eyes focusing in on the agent’s _eccentric_ appearance (Seonghwa would call it outlandish and weird).

“Did your mommy not teach you how to knock?” the mobster asked, clasping his hands together, “Unless you’re one of those Academy brats. In that case, I assume that your mommy dearest is long gone.”

Hongjoong let out a dry laugh at the mafia leader’s poor attempt at provoking him, “Does that usually work?”

“Does it usually work for the Academy? When they send little teams of students to try and shut us down?” 

Hongjoong laughed, this time a little bit more condescending. He began to take a few steps towards the boss, and his guards immediately drew machine guns and pointed them at Hongjoong. He gave a pout, raising his hands above his head. 

“You know, I really don’t like long sleeved shirts,” Hongjoong began, tugging at the arms of his sleeves with his thumbs, “They’re just not practical.”

The mobster raised a bushy eyebrow at the agent, as if to ask _‘why are you telling me this?’_ Despite the man’s confusion (he had a right to be confused - the boy was complaining about long sleeved shirts while wearing one? weird, right?), Hongjoong continued his slow walk towards the mobster and his guards, hands above his head. 

“Wipe that look off your face man. I mean, they’re just bad in every way. First of all, they’re hot, in a non-sexy way. You can’t wear a long sleeve shirt if it’s summer, or if you’re a special agent who does a lot of fighting,” Hongjoong shook his head for added effect, “They’re also just unattractive. I think I look good in them, but they’re just kind of a boner killer. Y’know?”

The three men in front of him all looked him up and down, appalled and trying to understand what was happening and what they should do. 

“There is, however, one redeeming factor,” Hongjoong plastered on his signature grin, stopping in his tracks, “If you’re a special agent in training, you can make these tiny little pockets in the sleeves, and you can store fun things in there! My thing of choice is this fun trinket. It’s called a shuriken. Do you wanna try?”

Before either of the guards could act, Hongjoong flicked his wrists and lodged the throwing stars in their heads. The two meatheads fell to the ground with an unceremonious _thunk_ , and the mob boss stood up in complete alarm. In the midst of the commotion, Hongjoong threw his last shuriken in the general direction of the boss. Instead of finding the kingpin’s head, the weapon broke through the tiny tinted window on the ceiling. He charged at Hongjoong and pinned him against the wall below the window, drawing a small knife and pressing it to the agent’s neck. A few shards of dark grey glass fell onto the pair, and Hongjoong winced at the thought of cleaning the tiny fragments out of his hair.

“You little shit. I actually liked those two,” the kingpin growled at Hongjoong, putting too much pressure on the pocket knife for his liking, “And you can’t even through a ninja star correctly. You missed, dumbass.”

“Who says I missed?” Hongjoong smiled sweetly, although he felt like vomiting because of the mob boss’s horrendous halitosis. 

“I’m still alive, all you did was break my useless window. What, did you want to look up and see the stars before you die?” the kingpin drawled, getting far too close for Hongjoong’s liking, “You’re gonna have a sad death, you brat. They’re out to kill you. It’s only a matter of time before the world flips upside down and everyone sees the truth. The Academy sent you here all alone, and you’re gonna die with no one to save you.”

“I didn’t come alone.”

Hongjoong was quickly set free from the greasy boss’s bad breath, as the criminal fell to the floor with an arrow in his head. The agent breathed a sigh of relief, and then looked up through the shattered window. He gave a thumbs up to the speck of blond hair that was a couple hundred feet above. He quickly brushed the glass out of his hair, wincing as he cut open his palm on a particularly stubborn shard. 

Hongjoong darted up the spiral staircase, throwing the doors open. He was greeted by a bored looking blond with a bow in hand. 

“Guess how many minions I had to kill on my way up to a good sniping point,” Seonghwa smiled at his partner, giving him a playful nudge. 

“How many?” Hongjoong bit the bait, letting the older agent brag. 

Seonghwa held up the hand that was still holding his favourite bow, his pale and calloused skin covered in black tally marks.

“15, 20, 25… 27? Damn, Seonghwa. Save some for the rest of us,” Hongjoong gave a pout, tugging on his partner’s arm. 

“Is that the thanks I get for saving your life?” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, beginning to walk back to the academy. He let his small friend cling to his arm, practically dragging Hongjoong along with him. 

“Thank you, all-mighty God Park Seonghwa for your valuable service,” Hongjoong declared, like it was an oath on a national level, putting his free hand over his heart. 

“You’re welcome, puny mortal,” Seonghwa boasted, stopping as they arrived at a telephone booth in a back alley. 

“Can you get us in? I think the blood on my hand might fuck up the reading,” Hongjoong batted his eyelashes at his parter.

“Or you could let go of my arm, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes, placing his hands on the print scanner disguised as an electric panel anyways. The doors of the phonebooth swung open and as soon as the pair entered, the floor gave way and they plummeted down into the entrance of the Academy. 

Later that night, Seonghwa gazed longingly at the glove that had once been crisp white. The tiny red splotch became an aggressively crimson patch, after Seonghwa had finished stitching up the gash on Hongjoong’s tiny hand. 

The pair sat together in their shared dorm room, with Hongjoong practically passed out under a pile of blankets on his side of the room. Seonghwa lounged boredly in his own bed, tossing the glove back and forth in his hands, before looking over at his sleeping partner. He remembered his initial plan of making Hongjoong clean it up, and he launched the dirty glove at the mound of fabric to his left. The phone under his leg startled him as it vibrated. 

**hjoongz98:** ow

 **Seong_Hwa:** sure

 **hjoongz98:** im in pain

 **Seong_Hwa:** sure

 **hjoongz98:** i think u broke my arm

 **Seong_Hwa:** wyd

 **hjoongz98:** thinking

 **Seong_Hwa:** bout what?

 **hjoongz98:** smth that Ugly said to me

 **hjoongz98:** he said that the academys out to kill us

 **hjoongz98:** and that we;ll see the truth

 **hjoongz98:** u know

 **hjoongz98:** normal mob boss stuff xx

 **Seong_Hwa:** he was just spouting bs to throw you off

 **hjoongz98:** maybe..

 **hjoongz98:** n e wayz!

 **hjoongz98:** ive got a rly good book under here

 **hjoongz98:** super metaphorically titillating 

**Seong_Hwa:** do you even know what those words mean

 **hjoongz98:** wanna hear some

 **Seong_Hwa:** … ok?

 **hjoongz98: “** dear diary,”

 **hjoongz98: “** joongie and i were so domestic today”

_[_ **_Seong_Hwa_ ** _has blocked_ **_hjoongz98_ ** _]_


	2. you're in my veins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its mingi vs the gays in this cruel cruel world
> 
> pls enjoyyy hhh this was way longer than i expected,, i kinda jsut started writing and somehow ended up with 3k

Hongjoong was startled awake the next morning by a loud cracking noise. 

He bolted upright, feeling a wave of complete alarm rip through his body. He whipped his head around with wide eyes, looking for the source of the bone cracking. The special agent was expecting the sound to be the result of a snapped neck, or a shattered arm. Instead, it was coming from the mop of blonde hair that he called his partner. 

Seonghwa was reaching up to the ceiling, his back continuing to make gruesome pops and clicks. He was sitting upright in his bed, squeezing his eyes shut with his nose crinkled. His striped pajamas sat askew on his shoulders, and his hair looked like it was home to 7 baby birds. But this wasn’t news - Seonghwa always looked alarmingly soft in the morning. The cracking was what caused Hongjoong’s jaw to drop in absolute horror. 

“What the fuck,” he whisper shouted, his throat dry from 8 hours of going unused. Seonghwa’s eyes shifted to his roommate without moving his neck, keeping his arms above his head as he chased after one final click in his back. 

“What are you looking at?” Seonghwa probed, finally releasing a stubborn knot in his spine.

“It sounds like you’re fracturing each vertebra one at a time,” Hongjoong winced, feeling his own back twinge at the thought. 

“I twisted my body all weird to get that shot on that kingpin last night,” Seonghwa sucked in a sharp breath as his shoulder finally clicked itself back into place, “And then I fell asleep on my phone in some weird position. And I can’t reach the stupid muscle knots in my shoulders.” 

Hongjoong watched in amusement as his partner contorted himself into a human pretzel, trying to reach a spot on his back. 

“Stop it, you’re just gonna hurt yourself more,” Hongjoong laughed lightly, untangling himself from his nest of blankets. He clambered across the room and into Seonghwa’s bed, making himself a cozy spot at his partner’s back. Seonghwa’s hands were swatted away as he continued to pursue the dream of massaging the knots out of his shoulders. 

“Let me just…” Hongjoong mumbled from behind Seonghwa, placing his tiny hands on the older’s shoulder blades. 

“Aghh,” Seonghwa keened, feeling the tension seep out of his muscles, “You should really get out of the Academy now, it’s not too late to get into a good college. You have a future in massage therapy.”

Hongjoong snorted, “I don’t think I would get into any college, considering I’ve never even set foot into a highschool. Except for that time that we had to pick up Jongho.”

“So what?” Seonghwa screwed his eyes shut, “I’m sure that any massage therapist school would take one look at your - Hngh! ...your talent.”

Even though he couldn’t see his face, Hongjoong could tell that Seonghwa was blushing by his red ears. Seonghwa leaned into Hongjoong’s small hands, trying to pretend that he was laying on a comfy massage bed. 

“Late again? You guys need-” Mingi threw open the door to their room, his eyes falling onto the scene unfolding on the bed, “You know what. Nevermind. Take your time. Meeting can wait. Bye now.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong watched in horror as Mingi practically sprinted away with bright red cheeks. They shared a concerned look, opting _not_ to think about what the younger crew member was going to tell the rest of their team. Without saying a word to each other, they separated and went to go get dressed. 

They emerged from the room in a hurry, scrambling to get down to the common room for their daily team meeting. Hongjoong was still throwing his jacket on, and Seonghwa was frantically smoothing out his wild hair. They practically threw themselves onto the couch, both staring at the ground to avoid the questioning looks coming from the other 4 members of ATEEZ. Hongjoong noted that the two notorious troublemakers where no where to be found in the common room, and was coming up with a list of possible places they could be hiding around the dormitory. 

“Stop traumatizing your members,” Yeosang chided Hongjoong, “You almost broke our weapons engineer this morning,” he gestured to Mingi, who was curled up at the dining table and staring emptily into his morning mug of hot chocolate. 

“He’s overreacting,” Hongjoong defended, raising his hands above his head in an attempt to look more innocent - because, well, he was. There was no funny business going on, and it was just unfortunate timing on Mingi’s part. 

“Where’s - ” Seonghwa began, cut off by the bathroom door opening. 

A cloud of steam billowed over the threshold - the telltale sign of a Wooyoung shower. The purple-haired fiend always took showers that were far too hot for far too long, and let the entire bathroom become a sauna. However, the person who walked forward through the steam, wrapped in a fluffy pink bathrobe, was sporting a wet mop of red and black hair. 

“San, sweetie, we can’t have you _both_ taking those hot showers. You need to save some warm water for the rest of us,” Hongjoong scolded, unhappily recalling all of the times that the shower stream had turned cold when he was unfortunate enough to wash up after Wooyoung.

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” San replied smoothly, his lips curling into a vulpine smile as he disappeared into the dorm room that he shared with Wooyoung. 

The members in the common room exchanged a few confused glances, with the exception of Hongjoong. Hongjoong has already got the whole situation figured out, even before Wooyoung emerges from the sauna-bathroom. Wooyoung hugs his bathrobe tight around himself and gives a small wave to the group of his horrified friends, trotting after San and closing the door to their bedroom. 

They all sit in suffocating silence, only occasionally broken by disgustingly soft giggles coming from Wooyoung and San’s room of Pure Hell. Seonghwa nearly jumps out of his seat at a loud bang, and he is halfway stood up when he realizes that they weren’t under attack. It was just Mingi, slamming his head against the table. 

“I miss when they were just cute and innocent kids,” Yunho grumbled, pulling an ice-pack out of the freezer and sitting next to Mingi at the dining table. 

“I miss when my head wasn’t throbbing, ow,” Mingi whined, lifting his head from the table and pressing his hands to his forehead. 

“Well that’s your fault, now isn’t it,” Yunho chuckled, swatting Mingi’s hands away and placing the ice-pack over the younger’s forehead. 

“I agree with Yunho,” Yeosang flung himself onto the couch, between Seonghwa and Hongjoong, “They were much cuter when they were pining.”

“Ew, no. I prefer this over the pining,” Jongho shook his head, plopping himself down on the floor infront of the couch, “They may be unholy, but I lost too much sleep when Wooyoung was gay panicking twice every day and once every night.”

While the other members of ATEEZ were thinking about Wooyoung and San’s past, Choi San himself was reflecting on a time further back than any other member could ever know about. While he gazed fondly at his purple-headed partner (who was bustling about their room, searching frantically for his socks), San was reminded of how skittish Wooyoung was when they had first met. 

San had discovered Wooyoung on a mercenary job, when he was only 13. Now that he was 20, he had realized how fucked up it was that he was a military mercenary at only 13. But at the time, he lived off of black coffee and adrenaline, and saw nothing wrong with the lifestyle he had gotten himself caught up in. 

He was commissioned by a branch of the military, that would eventually grow into The Academy, to find and kill some corrupt dude in suburban Ilsan. Something about money laundering that he couldn’t quite recall anymore. However, he could perfectly remember climbing up the side of an apartment building and jumping from rooftop to rooftop on a sunny late afternoon. San could still feel the wind whipping through his hair and the sun beating down on his rosy cheeks. 

He arrived at a small break in the buildings, a gap that he couldn’t quite jump over. He knew that this meant he had made it to an alley - the alley that he had watched the target come out of every day for the past week that he had been observing him. San peered down into the dark alley, almost jumping out of his skin at a sudden loud crash. He squinted into the alley and saw an industrial metal door that had been flung open - that must be where the operation had been based. He was busy surveying the door and trying to see inside when he was distracted by a loud grunt, and he craned his neck to see his target being dragged into a dark corner.

San cursed under his breath - a word too vulgar for any 13 year old, even the killing machine ones - and tried to find a way to see into the shadowed part of the alley. He swung his legs over the side of the building, and slowly maneuvered himself so that he was hanging off of the ledge. He gripped onto the building tightly, trying to reverse-rock-climb his way down the building. While he was making his way down inch by inch, he could hear strained grunts from the old man that was his target, and San was a little bit more than alarmed when the punches began to sound dampened, making repulsive squelching noises. Once he had stopped hearing any sounds from the target, he abandoned the thought of a slow descent and dropped down from the wall. Scrambling to his feet, he took a few cautious steps towards the shadows. He could see a few splatters of red on the ground, and he was ready to face some FBI agent or some other secret service worker.

His sneaky approach was blown when he tripped on something, and face planted into the oily gravel of the alleyway. He groaned and pushed himself up off of the ground, raising his hand to his cheek to clear the rocks from the new scrape on his cheek. His fingers came away feeling wet, and San was less than thrilled to see his hands already dripping with blood. He was bleeding fast, and his mind started racing with all of the vascular anatomy that he knew - he must have nicked his transverse facial vein, or maybe his angular vein. Both of his knees were shining an angry red, gravel embedded into his skin. He sat up, and wondered why the hell he had tripped. San’s lips slipped into a frown when his eyes fell upon a small blue sneaker, almost the same size as his own feet, splattered with blood. Alarms started going off in his brain, and he was immediately concerned for the kid, who must be a hostage or some sort of prisoner. San knew that he had to find the kid as quickly as possible, and he jumped to his feet and took the last few steps into the veil of shadows that enveloped the target and his pursuer. 

He found the kid much quicker than anticipated.

There was a small boy standing over the body of San’s target, his tiny chest heaving up and down as he looked at the bloody mess on the ground. His hung loosely over his alarmingly skinny frame, and he was only wearing one shoe that appeared to be too big for him. The kid’s eyes were shrouded by his messy black hair, and his face and hands were dashed with tiny flecks of red. 

“What’s your name?” San asked after a moment, as gently as he could. The boy looked up at San, his hair falling out of his face and revealing the tears in his eyes. 

“My parents are inside there, they’re in the basement,” the black haired boy said, his voice coming out rather calmly for a kid who had just beaten an adult to death with his bare hands, “If you take a right when you get to the bottom of the stairs, then go into the second room on the left, that’s where he keeps their bodies. I don’t think he preserved them very well, so they might not be identifiable.” 

San took a step back, his eyebrows knitting together and his heart falling down into his stomach. He was the same height as the mystery boy, maybe even an inch or so shorter, and he concluded by the stranger’s bobbing adam’s apple and similar build that this boy was close to his own age. 

“How old are you? What’s your name?” San inquired tentatively, taking a few cautious steps towards the boy and the crumpled body on the ground. 

“I’m 12 - do you think he’s dead? Did I get him?” the boy sniffled a bit, bringing up a bony hand to wipe at the tears that were threatening to spill from his sunken eyes. 

San shot a look at the body on the ground. Judging by the blunt trauma to his face and skull, and the violently purple contusions that riddled the rest of the man’s body, the young mercenary figured that it was pretty safe to consider the man dead. However, just to reassure the boy in front of him, he bent down to check for a pulse. When he didn’t feel vessels pumping underneath his fingers, he looked up at the mystery boy and gave him a nod. 

“I’m San. What’s your name?” San tried again, placing a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder and guiding him out of the alley.

The boy simply shook his head, looking down at the ground as they walked through the darkening street. Night was beginning to drape itself over the city, and the sun was barely providing light for the two lost boys. 

“Okay, fine,” San sighed quietly, “Will you let me take you back to where I came from? I don’t think that…” _I don’t think you have anywhere left to go._ “...I don’t know if it’s best for you to be around when the police find that man’s body.”

The boy gave a short nod, his bangs falling back into his eyes. San was tempted to brush them away, but decided that it was better that he couldn’t see the mystery boy’s empty stare. 

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, and tapped a few buttons before putting it up to his ear. 

“Yes, I’m done. No, that’s uh.. a long story,” San took his hand off of the boy’s shoulder to scratch awkwardly at his neck, “I found this, um, boy with the target. He won’t tell me his name, but I think it’s… better if he comes back with me. You’ll want to see him.”

San stayed on the phone for another minute or so, occasionally making a little ‘hm’ noise in response, but mostly just listening. He could feel the boy’s eyes burning into him like tiny little lasers, and he returned the stare once he had hung up the phone. 

“So, the people who sent me here are going to come pick us up,” San explained, scanning the boy’s face for any signs of a reaction, “You look like you could use a big meal and some rest… but I’m not sure what will happen after that. Is this okay?”

The boy gave a weak nod, his face scrunching up. The tears that he had been fighting began to spill from his eyes without control, and buried his face in his blood smattered hands. San was taken aback for a moment, but he shook off the sinking feeling in his stomach and wrapped his arms around the boy. They stood under the streetlamp for the next few minutes, sobs wracking through the boy’s gaunt body as San rubbed circles into this pitiful stranger’s back. A fancy looking black car pulled up beside them, the harshly tinted windows glinting under the yellow glow of the city lights. 

They rode in the backseat of the expensive government car for close to an hour, making the long drive out to the secret military base that had to be tucked away into a desolate field far away from civilization. San’s spared one last glance at the scrawny black-haired boy that sat in the seat next to him - he looked tired. It was only when he noted the exhaustion in the boy’s eyes that he felt sleep tugging at his own eyelids. He let out a quiet sigh, and leaned his head against the window as the traffic in his mind started to slow down. Just as his eyes began to feel heavy, he was startled awake by a gentle tap at his hand. San shifted in his seat to look at the boy, who was staring at him intently. 

“Wooyoung,” he said quietly, peering at San through his knotted bangs. 

San gave him a small smile. 

“Goodnight, Wooyoung.”

A wave of relief washed over San as the corners of _Wooyoung’s_ lips curled up. San decided that he would like to see that smile many more times. 

And he did. Once San told his trainer about how Wooyoung had killed the corrupt money launderer, they immediately wanted to test out his combat skills. After gaining some much-needed weight, it turned out that he was practically born for close combat, and he seemed to be akin with a set of throwing knives. Wooyoung and San were partners for the next few years, learning the ins and outs of combat - and also of each other. They were a well-oiled machine in the field, and maybe something a little bit more when they were behind closed doors. 

San and Wooyoung were the first members of Project ATEEZ, and among the first official students of The Academy. As the first team members, it was basically their legal obligation to torture the other 6 members as they were gradually added to the Project. Although they had been a full team of 8 for almost 2 years now, they still maintained the rule that it was their ‘holy duty’ to torment their friends. 

San looked back on their escapades over the years with a small smile on his face. However, he was rudely snapped out of his nostalgic daze by his _demonic_ partner clapping loudly in front of his face, sporting a fiendish smile. 

“Snap out of it,” Wooyoung giggled, throwing a sweater directly at San’s face, “Get dressed, they’re probably all waiting for us out there.” 

San maturely stuck his tongue out at his partner, pulling on his pants and hanging his bathrobe on the hook next to Wooyoung’s. He tugged his sweater over his head, and tried to smooth out the mess that the top had made of his bangs. 

Wooyoung opened the door and gestured for San to exit, “After you, your highness.” The grin on the purple-haired boy’s face stretched all the way to his eyes, and his nose crinkled up just the way that San liked. He patted Wooyoung’s head fondly and stared at his face for a moment, trying to soak in the affection radiating from the younger boy’s grin. 

“Thank you for your royal service,” San giggled, walking out of the room. He watched his door-holder bow to him, positively enamoured. Wooyoung gave him a lopsided and ridiculous grin. 

And despite already receiving enough quirked lips to last him for a lifetime, San decided that he would like to see that smile many, many more times. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading i hope u enjoyed!!!

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading!! i hope u enjoyed <33
> 
> my [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/blushjeno)


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